How to Seduce an Angel in 10 Days (15 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer

W
hat the actual fuck?

This was not what Falcon had intended when he’d shot Tally, he decided as he watched the scene unfold from the window. She’d gone from bad to worse. She was supposed to call Tristan, and the Angel of Death was supposed to come and save her. When she saw Tristan, Falcon’s bullet would activate and she’d forget all about him.

It was perverse of him, but he had to see it happen to make sure Tally was taken care of. He didn’t want to leave her alone until he was certain.

But it looked as if she didn’t need him to take care of that for her. Watching Ethelred put his arm around her and seeing Tally accept that touch sparked something dangerous in Falcon’s gut.

He’d been ready to charge in, magick blazing, when Emilian entered, but Tally had that handled, too. She held the end of the world in her arms and she petted his hair, comforted
him
. Tally didn’t need Falcon for anything he could give her.

A wish erupted into the forefront of his mind, something he had never let himself want. It burned its way through all of his walls and fortifications. A yearning for something he knew he could never have. A future. A forever home with a forever mate. Triplet girls who looked just like their mother, who were as he’d described her: tiny, golden balls of pixie mayhem. Sudden images of that future assaulted him, each like a knife that sliced into the core of him.

He saw his mother bouncing those girls on her knees, birthday parties, and private evenings spent wandering the beaches of Captiva Island, shelling, watching the odyssey of the baby turtles returning to sea. He saw him and Tally making love in moonlit grottos among the mangroves.

And he wanted that with her more than he wanted his next breath.

Even if he could be sure the wanderlust wouldn’t take him, death would. It was the only way to ensure the gypsy curse would be broken. He’d trade his life for five more minutes with Tally, but not the whole world. Not her life. Tristan would make her happy.

He needed a drink. Or four. He could at least go out with a bottle of good bourbon in his hand.

Falcon teleported to The Banshee’s Bawl, a favored bar on the magickal side of St. Louis. He barely made it. He blinked in and out like a cell phone with a bad signal. His body was like static, flickering through beams of light. His magick was already failing. Merlin had said it would happen fast, but Falcon had thought he’d have just a bit more time.

He wandered into the bar. It was fairly empty, populated by just a few witches and warlocks looking for a hookup or to buy unsavory magicks. He was simultaneously pleased and irritated to see the Angel of Death, Tristan Belledare, sitting in a darkened corner.

He made his way over to Tristan’s table and sat down. Falcon entertained the idea of just shooting him from afar, but he didn’t trust his aim this late in the game.

“Not a good time, man,” Tristan growled.

“Not for either of us, buddy.”

“I’m in the middle of something.”

“Yeah, me, too, and I have to get it done before I die. Which is going to be any minute now.”

“What?” Tristan demanded as he pushed a bottle of whiskey closer. “Take a drink and start talking.”

“Were you serious when you told Tally you loved her?”

Tristan looked like a kid in the last round of a spelling bee who’d just been asked to spell “hippopotomonstros— esquipedaliophobia.”

“Is that a no?” Falcon pulled his gun and cocked it under the table.

“What is wrong with you? Do they have a name for it?” Tristan demanded.

“Yes. It’s called handling my business. We both know I wasn’t meant to be Cupid. Either I believe in love, or I die. So—”

“I don’t know how to break it to you, but you’re not on my list to reap today. Or for the foreseeable future.”

“Then that’s bad fucking news.”

“Are you in such a hurry to die?”

“No. I’m in a hurry to save the world. I stabbed Ethelred with a love arrow because he pissed me off.”

Tristan laughed. “I would have liked to have seen his face.”

“Pay attention.”

“Right, sorry. Go on.” The Angel of Death took another gulp of whiskey.

“I fucked with Merlin’s Grand Plan with this gypsy curse thing. I can’t let the Powers That Be wipe two souls out of existence for my mistake. If I don’t believe in love, I lose my job. Then I’ll die as I was meant to the day of your funeral when the lamia knocked me off my broom. And the magick that enchanted Ethelred will fade so Merlin’s Grand Plan can be shoved back on track.”

“So you think you can give me Tally giftwrapped?” The Angel of Death rolled his eyes. “Why am I the only one who understands it doesn’t work that way? Dred tried to give me Middy, too, when he found out she was going to die.”

“He tried to do what with my sister?”

“Shut up and listen to me, idiot. You cannot give one person to another. People love where they love.”

“Unless you’re Cupid.”

“And you want to shoot me to ensure that I will love Tally forever?” Tristan made a big show of pretending to think it over. “Yeah, that’s all well and good, but did you forget that Tally is in love with you?”

“I already shot her.”

“You
what
?” Tristan palmed his forehead and then looked skyward. “If I ever meet a witch who has the misfortune to love me, I swear I won’t be this stupid.” He sighed. “Did you forget the part where I told you that you’re not on the schedule to be reaped? A Crown Prince of Heaven such as yourself requires a personal appearance on my part. You’re not going to die today. Then there’s the part where I told Tally I was in love with her still just to piss you off. The apology I meant.”

Just then, a woman emerged from the bathroom and headed for their table. She was, in a word, beautiful. Tall, with a curvy shape, long curly black hair, and skin he couldn’t quite describe—but the color made him think of long days spent under an island sun.

“Falcon, this is Ghislaine.
My
assignment,” Tristan explained.

A wicked gleam came into the woman’s large, amber eyes and she smirked. “Seems Ethelred left quite a bit out of Michael Grigorovich’s contract. He has relatives in the mortal world hunting for Emilian and a way to access all the power he amassed before he died. Bad men who have already taken over the Grigorovich crime family.”

“Are you related to Emilian, too?” It seemed the best-laid plans of gods and men always ran amok. There was a reason it rhymed with fuck. Because they were all fucked facedown.

“No. I have a particular gift that the Grigorovich family wants.” She looked at Tristan, who motioned for her to continue. “I can raise an army of the dead. I’m a Zombie Master. Apparently, The Powers That Be don’t like what I’ve been doing with my gifts. Death here is supposed to keep me on a short leash.”

“We’re always on the brink of extinction, or apocalypse. If it’s not one damn thing, it’s another.”

“Exactly!” Tristan snapped to attention. “So even if you do make this stupid and unnecessary sacrifice, someone else is going to come along and shit all over it anyway. Why bother?”

“I guess my number’s just up. Better souls have gone before me, and my life is all I have to give.” He shrugged, embarrassed at being laid so bare in front of anyone, especially Tristan and this woman he’d just met.

The Zombie Master looked at him, a soft expression on her face. “Are you sure about that?”

“And that’s why I’m a Crown Prince of Hell,” Tristan snorted. “You wouldn’t catch me hanging my ass out in the breeze for people who aren’t smart enough to appreciate the sacrifices that have already been made for them. I say we let Darwinism have its wicked way with the populace and call it a day.”

“You still didn’t answer my question, Belledare. About Tally.”

“I did, but you weren’t listening. So I’ll repeat myself. Just this once. I’ll get crayons and puppets so you understand. Tally doesn’t love me. But I give you my word as a Crown Prince of Hell, if you die, I’ll look after her.”

“Not good enough.”

“That’s just how it has to be. Because if you shoot me with that thing, I’m going to shove it up your ass.”

“I’d trade that to know she’s okay. That works for me.” Falcon nodded seriously.

“Look, here’s why you’re not going to die today. You already love her. You don’t have to admit that you do, or that you believe in love, because I already know it.” Ghislaine turned to look at Tristan as he spoke. “What? It’s not like I suddenly grew a vagina because I see what’s in front of my face. I had to have this same talk with the guy who married his sister. If all warlocks are this dense, I’m surprised the species has survived at all. And I am sick to death of playing Cupid. That’s his job!” He motioned to Falcon. “I’m the Angel of Mother-Fucking-Death. I should be reaping souls, not doing the pansy dance.”

“No.” Falcon shook his head, horrified. “I can’t love her. I can’t. Otherwise, there’s no way to fix what I’ve done.”

“Like I said,” Tristan replied. “Puppets and crayons.” He looked around the bar for a moment before motioning a blond witch over to their table.

She sat down next to Falcon, practically in his lap. She’d exposed her many charms with a pink gingham shirt unbuttoned to maximize her cleavage and tied off to expose her navel. She had a metal post through her belly button that had a star on the top and glittering things dangling from it that Falcon assumed were supposed to look like the tail of a comet or a shooting star, whatever. Perhaps it was supposed to draw attention to the way her very short shorts hung on her hips and her long, tanned legs.

But Falcon wasn’t interested. “So?”

“So?” Tristan parroted. “Look at her. You’re not even interested.”

“Or maybe,” the blonde began, “he’s into this instead.” In place of the blonde bombshell sitting next to him was the demon Ethelred.

And before Falcon could react, Ethelred grabbed the gun and shot Cupid with his own love bullet. The demon grinned. “It’s a gift from Tally.”

“She’s going straight to Hell.” Tristan laughed. The bastard actually laughed.

“She is.” Ethelred grinned. “But not for this. She says love
yourself
. And I say, payback’s a bitch.”

“Oh, you think that shit’s funny? My arrow can’t be undone if I live. You’re stuck with Luminista.”

“That’s fine. I’ve been under so long, it doesn’t matter now.” He cackled some more. “And the best part is, Angel boy, you lose. I get Tally, too!”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Road to Hell Is Paved with Good Intentions

E
thelred had turned a rather interesting shade of purple upon his return from his errand. Tally had never seen anyone laugh so hard. Ever. Not the first time Middy cursed the cat litter to chase her brothers, not when Dred had turned Middy’s braids into snakes in third grade, not even when Tally herself had cursed her tutor to spit up a Scrabble tile of the letter “y” every time she said “caysh” instead of “cash.”

It was that sort of mischievous glee that only the very young or the very wicked could experience. If he’d needed to breathe, Tally would’ve been calling the paramedics.

He gasped, finally taking air. “It was priceless, witch. The look on his face.”

“Really, it’s not that funny.” She put her hand on her hip.

“I don’t see why you didn’t want him to love
you
. Why himself?” Luminista asked.

“Because a person can’t truly love someone else until they love themselves.” Tally had always known that, but it wasn’t something she’d ever truly felt about herself. She didn’t know if she felt it now, but she wanted to. Although what she had to do next might make that impossible.

“Oh. I should be fine then. Because I love the hell out of me.” Luminista grinned.

“Morrigan!” Tally swore. “You two really are perfect for each other.”

“I know, aren’t we just?” Luminista sighed and Ethelred rolled his eyes.

“Okay, on to the rest of my plan.” Tally exhaled heavily. She’d talked to Ethelred about it briefly before sending him after Falcon.

Ethelred suddenly straightened and all joviality was gone. He reminded her of the day she’d first met him. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“No.” She gave a shaky laugh. “But it’s what I have to do. I am the only one who can fix this.”

“Hero complex, much?” Luminista snorted.

“No, I am the only one who
should
fix this. If Falcon dies because he can’t believe in love, or doesn’t want to believe in love, that’s still my fault. I knocked him from his broom. His first death is all me.”

“But so was Tristan’s, Midnight’s, and even Dred’s. And look where they ended up? They’re better off,” Ethelred replied.

“Still playing Devil’s Advocate?” Tally asked.

“Always, little witch.” He gave her a genuine smile this time. “There’s no going back, you know.”

“I know.”

“And frankly, I’m a little pissed. Do you know how long it took me to become a Crown Prince?”

“I’m sure I’ll fuck it up and get demoted to Infernal Shit Shoveler,” Tally replied.

“I’ll have to get the Big Boss in on this contract.” Ethelred looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know, for all the grief I gave you, Tally, I never expected you to choose Hell.”

“I didn’t, either. Hell is relative though, isn’t it?”

“I usually say that it is, but in this case, no, Tally, it’s not. If this goes badly, you’ll be sent back to the Abyss with the lamia
and
Emilian’s curse. You’ll be a Crown Princess of Hell. Immortal. So you’ll have an eternity of pain.”

“Great pep talk.” Tally nodded, trying to keep the tears from falling.

“I’ve always told you the truth, Tally,” Ethelred said solemnly.

“I’m ready to sign.” Her voice shook, but there was no going back. As a Crown Princess of Hell, it was possible she’d have the power to summon the lamia and control it. With that magick, she could take the curse from Emilian Grey and save everyone. In essence, she was hoping that the lamia would devour the beast.

She knew the most likely outcome was the scenario that Ethelred predicted, and she was terrified. But Falcon, Midnight, and all the people she loved would be safe. Even if there was no other possible outcome than eternity in the Abyss, Tally knew she’d do it anyway.

Strangling fear bubbled inside her and the dark places in her memory spilled over into her consciousness. It was endless darkness, despair, and a gnawing in her gut that could never be satisfied—a hunger never sated, though blood and flesh were its tribute. It was the great and terrible evil, the lamia, reaching back for her through the Abyss.

She’d been wrong. Her body was still the portal. It seemed the lamia had known, felt her reaching, and had waited for the right moment to pounce.

“Ethelred,” she gasped. “I don’t think I can wait to make the deal.” Tremors shook her body. “You need to leave now.”

“Tally—” A panicked expression bent his features.

“If you want Luminista safe, get her out of here. I can’t stop this.”

One thing she could count on with Ethelred was the lack of nobility. He didn’t need to be told twice. “I’ll see you on the flip, Drusilla.” He grabbed Luminista and disappeared.

Tally pushed down the fear, the memories of pain, and fought for control. She had to try to communicate with the lamia before it obliterated her will.

She reached out past the veils of dimensions, past all she knew to touch the cold, reptilian mind of the thing that had possessed her. Tally found just as the tendrils of her subconscious curled into the awareness she sought, an impossible wall blocked her. It was tall and vast, infinite.

The lamia was protecting itself from her!

Maybe the creature wasn’t at all what it seemed.

Tally tried again to quell her fear and reached with more confidence. A splitting pain throbbed in her forehead and Tally saw a black box in the corner of her mind spring open. It was the memories of when the lamia had been inside her. She’d locked those away; she never wanted to feel those things again.

They were missiles, hitting her again and again. She felt sick, the bloodlust raising bile in her throat and rage that burned through her like a lava flow. Tally felt the anger as if it were her own. She knew she had to let go and allow it to fill her, but she had to channel it against the beast.

Tally schooled her breathing and centered her awareness. The memories still crashed into her, but she was able to absorb them without being shackled by them. The brick wall was in front of her again and she felt a flash of fear as the bricks began to crumble to dust, one by one.

Tally fought to control her fear, but the crumbling of the bricks stopped. A face looked back at her from behind the wall. It was her own face, but it was something else, too.

“Why are you doing this, witch?” a low, gravelly, yet distinctly feminine voice asked her.

“I have to save him. Them.”

“You bring me to your dimension for righteous destruction?”

“I don’t know how righteous it is. I’m using outlaw magick to invoke the greatest evil we’ve ever known because it’s the only thing that will stop what’s happening.”

“Where is your Hand of Glory?” The creature referred to some of the darkest magick known to her kind, one of the only things that should have been able to summon a lamia.

“I don’t have one.” Tally wondered if perhaps it had been extremely naïve on her part to tell the creature the truth.

“Very interesting.” Her likeness sniffed the air. “There is no lie on you. You are the same vessel as before and yet, you are not. Your need tastes different.”

“It is.” Tally nodded and reached out trembling fingers to pull another brick from the barrier.

“Do you fear me?”

“Oh, yes,” Tally answered honestly.

“You’ve done penance for the atrocities we’ve committed?”

“Merlin says I’ve atoned. But I’m shitting all over my Second Chance by summoning you.”

“I can see him in your mind, Drusilla Tallow, this creature you wish me to devour. He tastes like ashes.” The lamia licked its lips.

“He will destroy my world. I was hoping to invoke you first, to make a deal. I want to save the vessels.” She pulled another brick away.

“What do you have that I want, witch?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if you free me and I don’t honor our deal?”

“You will. Before I pull these last bricks from your prison, our deal will be sealed with blood in the demon way.”

“I have a condition. You must let me stay with you.”

Tally paused. Stay with her? She was supposed to have a pet lamia? What was she supposed to do, walk it and feed it? This was insanity. Complete insanity.

“I’ve tasted your world and I want to stay.”

“You’d be caged,” Tally said.

“I’ve been here a long time. Alone. Your loneliness called to me, and it fed me, more than the flesh sacrificed to me. It’s been an age since I’ve been invoked to punish the wicked, since I flew free over the Aegean.”

Tally couldn’t say damn the consequences. This creature could still do as much damage as the beast inside Emilian.

“You hesitate and rightfully so. But think on it, witch. No one could open the portal inside of you. No one could use you in a way you wouldn’t allow. My strength and my power, all at your disposal.”

“What about your hungers? I don’t want to hurt innocents.”

“I will serve your Heaven.”

“That’s not an answer. You will serve Heaven, but will I suffer the hunger? Will I have to be strong enough to fight it? I’m not that strong.”

“I can’t answer that. I can consume this beast, but it will become a part of you, too.”

There wasn’t a choice. If she couldn’t bear the hunger, then she could ask Merlin to smite her. It would be worth it. The people she loved would be safe and Tally would know she’d truly atoned for what she’d done.

“It’s a deal?” Tally asked.

“Yes, witch.”

The creature bit its human-looking digit and presented it to Tally, its flesh producing steady droplets of blood. Tally had nothing with which to cut herself, but she was in a surreal, dream plane. She concentrated on the tip of her finger and the blood began to flow—her skin had opened up to do her will.

Tally pressed her finger against the creature’s and the wall became dust. Tally screamed as she felt an unbearable pressure on her chest. The pressure merged into pain—a thousand claws tearing into her skin, something pushing through the real of her into the ethereal.

It burned so hot it was cold and terror rose up in her, strangling the air from her lungs and rational thought from her mind. She was sinking into the darkness, slipping away into the cage, to the black box where she’d kept all the horrors Martin and Barista had inflicted on her.

Falcon! His name was a prayer on her lips and she was snapped back into awareness of her own body.

Tally felt strong and solid, powerful. It was a good feeling, a rush. She was high on the strength coursing through her. She felt invincible and she was hungry. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but all she craved was pizza.

She wondered if that would change when she took the curse from Emilian Grey. If she would become the beast inside him.

It didn’t matter, she told herself. No sacrifice was too great for Falcon’s life. Even if she lived through this, she’d have to say good-bye to him. It also meant she could never tell him she loved him. Her decision made, she felt a certain sad peace. This whole redemption thing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, but it was so much more, too. A lot like love.

Then she heard a sound that chilled her to her bones: the long, slow scrape of claws against the thin wood of the walls.

The beast had come.